


Haunted

by J_D_McCormick



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is also banned from dad Jokes, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Gen, He tries anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_D_McCormick/pseuds/J_D_McCormick
Summary: When Dick asked to go to a haunted house, Bruce said the first thing that came to mind without a thought for the repercussions.“What’s wrong with the one we live in?”





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [ this comic ](http://missinkart-artblog.tumblr.com/post/172459239975/twitter-has-great-comic-material-and-bruce-is-no) because you just know that Bruce is gonna regret his Great Dad Pun.

When Dick asked to go to a haunted house, Bruce said the first thing that came to mind without a thought for the repercussions.

“What’s wrong with the one we live in?” He asks nonchalantly, keeping the humour from his voice as he smooths the overs over Dick and turns off his bedside lamp.

“What?!” Dick yelps, shooting upright in bed and looking at Bruce in alarm. Bruce simply smiles as he steps out into the corridor, pulling Dick’s door shut behind him.

“Goodnight Dick.” He says, letting the smile tug a little wider, before he turns off the main light and closes the door.

“Bruce! Bruce what do you mean?!” Dick yells, muffled through the door, and Bruce chuckles and goes to bed.

* * *

He’s woken what feels like minutes after falling asleep by Dick clambering into his bed, clumsy and poking him with elbows and knees. Bruce groans, turning over to blink sleepily at him.

“Dickie?” He just about manages to mumble.

“Bruce I saw a ghost.”

Bruce groans again. “No you didn’t Dickie. There’s no ghosts.”

“There  _was_. I  _saw it_.” Dick insists, lifting the covers to scramble under them and letting in a cold draft in the process.

“Dick.” Bruce does his best to console. “There aren’t any ghosts in the manor.”

“There was an old man, in like, a really old-timey suit. He was staring at me.” Dick says as he cuddles up close to Bruce’s chest. Instinctively, Bruce wraps an arm around Dick and tugs him closer.

“Probably Alfred.” He yawns. Dick slaps his chest, though it's ineffectual.

“I’m serious!” He whines.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Dick.” Bruce soothes. “And there certainly aren’t any in the manor. I know, I’ve lived here the past 27 years.” His hand rubs up and down Dick’s back, and his ward grips tight to his pyjama shirt and nuzzles up under his chin.

“You promise?” Dick asks, voice small and quiet.

“I promise.” Bruce nods, already falling back asleep.

“I’m gonna stay here tonight anyway. Just in case.” Dick mumbles. “Okay?”

“Okay, Dickie.” Bruce hums. He drifts off again with the small, warm body of his ward tucked up close against him, held protectively close to soothe the childish fears.

* * *

He’s woken in the morning by a scream.

“AAAAHHH!!! Bruce! Bruce, Bruce, it’s a ghost, I told you-”

Bruce groans loudly as he bats away the small hands hitting wildly against his shoulder. There’s the sound of a curtain opening and any hopes Bruce had of a lie-in being dashed.

“Dick, that really is just Alfred.”

“Oh.”

“Master Bruce, what tall tales have you being putting into Master Dick’s head…”


End file.
